


Growing Wings

by newnumbertwo



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newnumbertwo/pseuds/newnumbertwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Kara is Lee’s Basic Flight instructor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely betas [](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/profile)[**lanalucy**](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/) and [](http://laura-mayfair.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://laura-mayfair.livejournal.com/)**laura_mayfair**.

Just in case anyone hadn't already guessed, (LOL) this is my remix.

Title: Growing Wings  
Characters:Kara, Lee, OMC  
Pairing: Kara/Lee  
Word Count: ~4700  
Rating: MA  
Warnings: none  
Summary: What if Kara is Lee’s Basic Flight instructor?  
Original Story: Full Stop Landing by [](http://walbergr.livejournal.com/profile)[**walbergr**](http://walbergr.livejournal.com/)  
Author's Notes: Thanks to my lovely betas [](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/profile)[**lanalucy**](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/) and [](http://laura-mayfair.livejournal.com/profile)[**laura_mayfair**](http://laura-mayfair.livejournal.com/).

God looked down from her podium. Another batch of fresh-faced nuggets hoping to save the worlds. How wrong they all were. They would learn that soon enough. That was her job, according to the top brass, mining the gold from the fool’s gold, mowing down the ones who couldn’t cut it and leaving only those ready, willing, and able to learn. She was one of the toughest instructors in any academy in the Twelve Colonies. If they could impress her, impress God, then they truly had the chops, and they could fly anywhere.

She scanned the rows of nameless faces. Most of them looked at her as though she _were_ God. It probably helped that she had begun the class by giving a kid the unfortunate callsign Fresh Meat. No one else wanted to attract that kind of attention. There was one, though, in the front row, “Adama,” she read on his name patch. He looked like he’d absorb everything she said, but he would also challenge her. Good. She could use one of those this semester.

“Adama,” she called. His eyes met hers. Stunning blue ones - information she filed away for later. “Explain the difference between lift and drag to the class.”

He gave a textbook perfect answer. _He does his reading, but can he apply it_? “And how would you use them to maneuver in a viper several klicks in the air?”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to teach us?”

She snorted. “Yeah, so pay attention.” She focused on the entire class. “All of you.”

She told them to open to page sixteen of their textbooks. “All right, take your pen and write a big “No!” next to the second paragraph.”

Adama cringed, but he and the rest of his classmates followed her instructions.

“Why did I have you do that?”

A bunch of deer in the headlights. Only Adama’s eyes showed any life. He raised a hand, and she nodded for him to speak. “It’s wrong somehow.”

“Yeah, it’s more than wrong. It’s frakkin’ lying to you.” She focused on the class as a whole. “Believing that, using that when you’re flying, can get you killed.”

“Why’s it in there, then?” Fresh Meat asked.

“That’s above my paygrade,” God said. “But any viper jock worth his wings knows better, and after today, you nuggets will too.”

She turned to the whiteboard and wrote “Bernoulli.” Then, she drew an “X” through it and wrote “God’s Laws” next to it, turned back to face the class. “We’re gonna learn God’s Laws today.”

“Wouldn’t they be God’s Commands?” Fresh Meat asked.

He was getting cheeky, but the kid made a good point. “Okay, God’s Commands, which means you nuggets need to write every frakkin’ thing that comes out of my mouth as though it were manna from the heavens, because as far as you’re concerned, it is.”

Then she explained the _true_ laws of physics, the ones the high school teachers couldn’t be bothered with, the ones that pertained specifically to flying. As she had decreed, each nugget wrote down her laws and explanations diligently. Then she dismissed the class for lunch.

At the instructors’ table, Captain Davis, Kara’s former instructor, asked her how it was going so far. She shrugged. “Okay. One of them shows promise already.”

He nodded. “Adama, probably.”

Her eyes widened. “How’d you know?”

He chuckled. “If he’s even half as good as his old man was, the fleet will be thrilled to have him.”

 _His old man?_ Now that he mentioned it, the name had seemed vaguely familiar. She thought back through the previous years’ tactical training, studying the flight patterns of the best in the fleet. _Husker_. “I thought I recognized the name.”

“Pay attention to that one, Kara. So whadja do so far?”

She explained how they’d already defaced academy property - at her command.

He shook his head and chuckled. “Gods, Starbuck. And I thought teaching here would change you.” He met her eyes. “But if even one of those kids remembers down the road and lives as a result, then it’s worth it.”

“I learned from the best, sir.”

He snorted. “I don’t know, kid. I get the feeling you’ve known how to fly since birth.”

“Probably.” She glanced off into the distance. “I remember wishing I could grow wings.” She grinned. “Especially after I saw my first fly-by.” _Even mom couldn’t ruin that._

They finished their lunch, and Kara returned to the classroom, fully donning her God persona on the way.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Today’s your chance to impress me. Don’t frak it up,” God said as she entered the lecture hall.

She smirked at Adama, who had his nose buried in his book. She had to admit his seemingly endless studying (not that she knew what he did outside her classroom, but she had a fair idea) had paid off; he’d been the top scorer on their written midterm. But could he _apply_ all that knowledge? They would find out today. _She_ would find out today.

“Close your books, your notebooks, and open your minds,” she said. _Open your minds?_ Where in the worlds had that come from? “Today is your first try in the sim. We’ll have three of these sessions before the practical.”

She glanced around the room, holding eye contact with anyone who dared. Only Adama and Fresh Meat, who had turned out to be a fair student, were confident enough to meet her gaze, although Adama looked like he had a stick up his ass. She would have to help him dislodge it if he had any hope of surviving beyond the academy. “Let’s go see how much you nuggets have learned.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

They stood grouped around the glorified box. The nuggets were a mixed bag of disappointed and excited. It brought her back to her first time, when she’d snarked about when she would get to fly a _real_ bird. Davis had just grinned at her. “Get through my class, and you’ll fly whatever you want,” he’d said.

Davis had been telling the truth, mostly. She didn’t get to fly as much as she would have liked because she was teaching. A sore topic with her, as that superior asshole at the Academy reunion had found out when he’d said, “Those who can’t do, teach,” in front of everyone during the triad game. She’d wanted to belt him across the mouth for that, but Helo had been sitting next to her. He’d leaned over and said in her ear, “Take him for all he’s got, Starbuck.” Then he’d grinned. “Then take him out in the parking lot.”

She’d followed both pieces of Helo’s advice, and it had kept her out of the brig - and made her a few hundred cubits richer. That’s why Helo was her best friend: he might not look like he had a lot going on between his ears, but he always had good ideas.

God stepped in front of the sim and stroked a hand down the side. “She might not look like much, but she’ll kick your ass.”

Someone snorted.

“If you’re really good, she’ll only kick your ass once.” She glanced around the room. “Most of you aren’t that good.”

Adama gazed at her, a clear challenge in those blue eyes. At least she’d dislodged the stick - for the moment. She smirked at him. “Looks like we have our first volunteer.”

He stepped forward and she showed him the controls, inviting everyone else to gather around as best they could. He put on the head gear, and she set the simulation to the basic flight test level. Then she turned on the vid screen on the side wall, so she and everyone else could watch his progress. “Ready?” she asked.

He nodded. She stepped back as he lowered the canopy and started the simulated engine. The box came alive.

It was slow going at first, like he was afraid to break the equipment, which meant it was at least _real_ enough for him to forget that was impossible. She worried he’d forgotten how to take off, but when he did, it was textbook perfect. Probably _too_ perfect. But he could learn that later, when he joined the big time.

He entered the atmosphere smoothly and flew straight, which was both boring and potentially dangerous if an enemy pursued him. As though he had read her mind, he executed a spin. The nuggets oohed because he stayed in control. He was always in control. She'd probably have to break him a little to fix him - his book-perfect take-offs and landings with some seat-of-the-pants maneuvering would make him a spectacular pilot.

He was approaching the end of the test pattern. _Could he do it?_ The cylon raider snuck out from behind the asteroid Adama had just passed. Before he could react, (or the other nuggets could utter a collective “frak”) the raider lit him up, and the vid screen went blank.

The nuggets stood stunned, and Adama opened the canopy and climbed out of the cockpit. His eyes had lost some of their fire. That was _not_ what she wanted. “What did you learn from this?” she asked the class.

“Always be aware of your surroundings,” Adama muttered.

She nodded. “Because you never know when the big one will come and bite you in the ass.” She glanced around the room. “Who wants to try next?”

Fresh Meat stepped forward.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

For the third round, Lee - _Lee_? - volunteered to go first. He climbed in the cockpit with determination, and his eyes flaring bright with a hint of anger. _Good._ She closed the canopy and set the controls, and he was off.

He flew like the viper was an extension of himself. Fluid, graceful motions. It was a thing of beauty worthy of a painting. She imagined brush strokes and colors that would best represent what she was seeing on the vid screen. _What only she could see._

The other cadets oohed and ahhed as their hero - although he had never asked for that status - flew the frak out of the course.

When he approached the asteroid field, she could _sense_ his eyes scanning, his hands tightening on the controls. He’d learned not to trust DRADIS when dealing with those _frakkers_.

_“They had a way of disrupting DRADIS,” she said to the class during their discussion of the Cylon War. “That’s part of why we lost so many pilots.”_

_“What about the ones who lived? What did they do?” Adama asked._ What had his father done, he’d meant.

_“They learned not to trust DRADIS. Use it as more of a guide. Their sharp eyes and instincts kept them alive.”_

That lesson had been effective. Lee - and the others - had become much more alert in the sims. During Lee’s second try, he had almost shot down the frakker and had avoided the raider’s blast. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten where he was and had gotten pulverized by an asteroid. This time, though, he had improved even more. It was amazing what five months could do.

When the raider crept out from behind that asteroid, Lee was ready. He spun the viper. Frak! He was flying upside down. It was a Starbuck maneuver - and one she hadn’t taught him. He avoided the cylon’s blast and took out the frakker. Then he flipped right-side-up and finished the course.

When he climbed out of the cockpit, she let the class’s applause speak for itself. She couldn’t stop herself from smirking at him, however, as she said, “Good work, Adama.” God didn’t give many compliments, but when she did it meant they were well earned.

He nodded. “So, do you think I’ll pass?”

He had no idea how good he was; he just wanted - _needed_ \- to be better. “That’s between you and God,” she said.

His eyes flared ever-so-slightly, then he looked ahead. He was probably plotting how much more he could study before the practical.

She’d gotten him to loosen up in the cockpit, but outside it, he still had the stick up his ass. Before he left her class, she planned to have that fixed too.

Lee moved to the back row, where he could watch and cheer on his classmates. He’d make a fine flight instructor himself - or a CAG. He had practical flying ability and the patience to work with others. He probably wouldn’t strike superior assholes either, which was always a plus in the Fleet. Yes, Adama was sitting pretty, and he didn’t even know it.

The next volunteer, Hash, climbed into the cockpit. She turned her attention back to the vidscreen.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It was the day of the final. After passing - or failing - everyone else in the class, one nugget at a time, she called for Lee to enter the sim room. He greeted her with the same respect he’d always shown and climbed in the cockpit.

“I told you it would be between you and God.”

He snorted.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Adama.”

He lowered the canopy and started the sim.

He flew with a combination of perfection and recklessness, which was a frakkin’ masterpiece on the vidscreen. Before they left for the day, she would fly with him. It was an inevitability she hadn’t recognized until that moment: She’d been waiting for Lee Adama for a long time.

He smoked the cylon raider and finished the course with a landing that would certainly please the knuckledraggers - no damage to the bird.

The sim ended, and she threw open the canopy and yanked him out of the cockpit. He made a slight cry - in protest or surprise, she wasn’t sure which - but he caught on quickly and went with it as she peeled his flight suit down to his hips.

If he had any uncertainty about her intentions, they likely disappeared when she shoved her hand down his pants, cupping him. Then he was off, flying, responding. He held her hair tight in his fist, and pulled her mouth to his. _Yes, Lee._ She’d known he was a fast learner. His lips locked on hers as his hands caressed her through her uniform.

He’d hardened in her hand. She gave a satisfied squeeze and grazed his bottom lip, smiling against his mouth. If he thought he would be in control here, he was sorely mistaken. She pulled back and let out a triumphant cry. Then she shoved him back against the sim ladder and straddled him.

As their tongues entangled, his hips rose to meet hers, and he grunted, a sound that mirrored her own guttural sounds. Her hands skimmed along his back.

He was fully hard, and his mind had caught up enough. He pushed her up with his knees so he could get to her greys. He unbuttoned them and tugged her briefs and pants down. She pressed her weight against him as she kicked them off.

The friction they created with his flight suit against her flesh made her gasp. It felt good, but it could feel so much better. She clawed at his suit, pulling it off.

Once he was bared to her, she straddled him again, pushing down hard until he had entered her completely. He reached under her tanks and cupped her breasts. He simply held them. He didn’t squeeze; he didn’t move. He needed more direction.

She lifted her body and covered his hands. She stilled her body as she met his eyes. Neither of them blinked.

She saw the light bulb go off. His eyes went from her to the door, where she had propped a chair under the handle. He studied the room before returning to her. She smiled and squeezed his hands, forcing them further into her breasts.

“Oh gods,” he said.

“Can’t argue with that,” she said.

Then she took his mouth again. She raised her body, knowing he’d follow her rhythm, even if he was uncertain. As she rode him, their lips parted. She brought one of his hands down to where they were joined, and she pushed his fingers into her folds. Once she was satisfied that he knew what to do, she left him to set his rhythm and enjoyed the sensations as she rode him. She ran her hands along his stomach. His muscles tightened at the contact, and she rubbed them harder.

She was getting close. Her eyes rolled back of their own accord, and she leaned against him, shuddering against his shoulder.

Her wordless pleas motivated him into action. He wrapped his arms around her and flipped them, so she rested against the ladder as he drove in and out of her. After a few more thrusts, he shuddered into her shoulder.

She slid out from under him and moved to the chair. She perched - rather than sat - on the edge of it. She looked up at him, her back hunched and her elbows resting on her knees, and met his eyes. She smirked. “Not bad, Adama.” _Understatement of the decade._

He leaned against the sim ladder, obviously unsure of his next move. “My pleasure, God.”

She laughed, open and long. _Real_. “Now that you’ve frakked God, you can use her name.”

He looked stunned, like he was taking liberties. She fought the urge to snort at that. He recovered quickly, though. “Which name would you prefer?”

He knew them both, of course, as her full name was on his syllabus, and her callsign was something of legend within the academy, but who did she want to be to him? “Kara,” she said. It felt right.

“Lee.”

 _Oh, I know._ But he had earned something that day. “Apollo,” she said, fully enunciating each syllable.

His brow furrowed in that way it did when he was confused. “Artemis.” He gave his one-sided grin. “What? Are we just saying names now?”

She shook her head. “I think I’m giving you your callsign.” She became thoughtful as she considered what that name could mean to him later.

He laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

He had doubts - another problem she could see would get in his way. She looked him in the eye, the closest thing to a salute she was willing to execute at the moment. “Best pilot I’ve had the pleasure of teaching.”

He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but she shot him down firmly. He closed his mouth.

“I can’t complain about the other kinds of pleasure, either.”

He stood straight, kicked off the part of the flight suit that still covered him, and took the two steps necessary to stand in front of her. He reached for the cigars lying on the desk and offered them to her. She took one, and with her free hand, reached into the pocket of her jacket draped on the back of the chair. She pulled out her lighter and clipper, prepared her cigar, and took a long deep drag before offering him the tools.

He struggled with them for a bit before giving up. “Not my specialty,” he said with a slight shrug.

She grinned. “Let’s share.”

She enjoyed the taste and feeling of a cigar in her mouth as much as she did a good frak. She handed it to him. “Don’t inhale,” she said. “We’re here for the flavor.” _Gods, the last thing she needed was for him to have a coughing fit right now._

“Are we?”

She just smirked.

“Do you mind if I ask, Kara, what the frak just happened?”

“You passed. We celebrated.”

He quipped about his classmates trying harder if they knew this would be their reward.

She shook her head. “Not for most of them.” _Not for any of them_. She reached for the cigar, taking it in her mouth slowly. As she did so, she reached for his cock and wrapped her hand around it. She stroked it tenderly, feeling it come to life in her hand. “You piqued my interest.”

He raised a brow. “Three hundred hours together. How is it I didn’t notice?”

 _You were too focused on being perfect. Studying._ She looked at him and then past him, at the sims. Then she shook her head. “Flying vipers?”

He laughed. She squeezed his hardening cock, and his stomach tightened visibly. He leaned forward. _All right, Apollo!_ He plucked the cigar out of her mouth and held it, as he took her mouth in a kiss. His free hand dipped between her legs. He sank one finger inside and rubbed with his palm. She groaned, lowered her lips to his neck, sucking on his pulse point, as she stroked his length. He liked what she was doing and expressed it by hitting _just right_. “Gods, you’re a fast learner.”

“Can’t complain about the teacher,” he said.

His thumb shifted to her clit, circling it deliberately.

She used her chin to nudge his tanks down, licking and sucking each newly exposed patch of skin. She reached for the cigar and took it from him. She inhaled and held it, then stubbed out the cigar against her thumb before laying it on the floor. He watched, tantalized, as she leaned over to blow the smoke over his cock. Then she engulfed him in her mouth, smiling around him, as he shuddered at the sudden contact. He pulsed into her mouth. She swallowed, listening to his short, hard breaths. _Frakking God wasn’t easy._

She scooted forward, tugged him down to his knees, and spread wider. “Your turn.”

He hesitated, staring at the goal like he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. “Ah…”

“No is not an option.”

The light returned to his eyes. “The chair’s too low.”

 _Oh._ He picked her up and laid her on the edge of the desk. Then he sank back to his knees. His hands held her hips before circling her thighs. Then he spread her wider with his thumbs before diving in. His nose bumped against her clit as he sucked and licked, meanwhile pushing his fingers deeper. She grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, deeper, locking him in with her thighs. She groaned as he drove her higher. Then she convulsed around him, unable to keep the smile from forming as she came down.

He stood and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her down to the floor. She rested against him, still, calm. He lay under her. His body betrayed nothing, but in his eyes, she could practically read his thoughts, his surprise.

“We should go one-on-one,” she said.

He raised a brow. “We haven’t been?”

She snorted. “In the sims. You have a lot to learn.”

A flicker of concern crossed his face. “Thought I passed.”

“Oh, you did. Flying colors. But there’s a lot I can teach you.”

“You haven’t been?”

“Apollo, this is just basic flight. You’ve got the chops to run with the big kids.” He grinned. She’d gone and given him a big head. “But you’ll never survive out there if I don’t give you some tips.” She smirked. “Besides, you’ll enjoy it.”

He snaked his hand up under her tanks, caressing the curve of her breast. She had him.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, standing next to the bird.

“Uh-huh. Look, Apollo, you passed, which means you’ll be in these things in a few weeks anyway.” She smirked. “You’re just getting a head start.”

“And if we’re caught?”

She shrugged. “I’m helping my student. That’s my job, right?”

He nodded. She should remember to use logic with him more often in the future. It would save time. She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him toward the bird. “Now get in there and show me what you’ve got, Apollo.”

He climbed the ladder, sat in the cockpit. “This seat’s much better,” he said. Then he put on his helmet, closed the canopy, and turned on the controls. He gave her the thumbs up sign, which she returned before heading to her own bird.

They wouldn’t do anything _too_ serious. They’d get take-offs and landings down and go from there.

She had already told Davis what they were up to, leaving out a few details of course, but the man had been smart enough to read between the lines. He’d simply nodded and grinned. “Take it easy on him, Starbuck.”

She would. After all, she had worked so hard to mold Apollo just right. She certainly didn’t want to have to start all over with another pilot.

She climbed inside her viper, put on her helmet, and started the bird. “Apollo, Starbuck,” she spoke into her headset. “Ready to take off?”

“Starbuck, Apollo. I was born ready.”

 _Cocky_. Perhaps she had rubbed off on him more than she’d thought. She smirked. “Prove it.” She gave directions for their take off. “Apollo, Starbuck. On my wing.”

She took off, and seconds later, he was at her side. _So far, so good._ “What’s the most important rule, Apollo?”

“Flexibility is the key to airpower?”

She laughed. “Aside from that.”

“Never leave your wingman.”

“Very good.” Even she could give a compliment occasionally. “Today, I’m your wingman. Be sure not to leave my side, no matter what.”

“No matter what.” A beat. “Starbuck, Apollo. Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

 _Because you’re smart, Lee._ She snickered into the headset, and he groaned. _Just for that_...She raised her altitude and peeled port. He followed.

“How was that?” he asked.

“Not bad for a rook.”

“Must be the teacher I had.”

“Let’s see how well she taught you.”

For the next hour, she took them through every move in her “book,” and he stayed on her wing. At first, there had been a lag, but then he flew like he _knew_ exactly what she would do next. He was more than ready for the big time. There was just one thing left to try.

She dove beyond his line of sight and disconnected her DRADIS signal.

“Starbuck, Apollo. I’ve lost you on DRADIS!”

 _Use your eyes, Lee_.

He circled the general area and called out to her every few seconds, each time with more desperation. When she swore he was on the verge of bursting into tears, she opened her comm. “Check the clouds, Apollo.”

She monitored his movements on DRADIS, and as he approached _her_ cloud, she burst out of it, upside down. She waggled her gloved fingers at him and grinned.

He laughed. “Do me a favor and never do that again.”

“Why not?”

“Not sure my heart can take that too many times.”

She turned right-side-up and aligned herself on his port wing. “Lead us home, Apollo.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

They landed on the tarmac without incident. She’d done a good job with him. When Kara turned off the engine and climbed out of the cockpit, Lee was already there. He strode up and covered her mouth with his, his body pushing hers into her bird. He pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “Thought I’d lost you,” he said. “I didn’t like it.”

She stroked his cheek. The depth of his feelings surprised her. By the look of it, they’d surprised him too. “I’m right here.”

He kissed her again. She moaned into his mouth. Then she pushed against his chest. He backed off but held her hands in his.

“Why don’t I take you home?” she asked. “There’s something else I’d like to do.”

“What?”

“Paint.”

He raised a brow and then chuckled. “You’re gonna be the death of me, God.”


End file.
